


A Contribution to the Vessel Theory - Hard to Swallow

by peachnewt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in Alternate Vessels, Gen, M/M, Sharing a Body, Vessel Dean Winchester, Vessels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachnewt/pseuds/peachnewt
Summary: Back in 2012 there was speculation that Castiel was using Dean as a vessel to escape Purgatory. I saw a lot of cool art and theories on it and contributed in my own way.Ripping this from my alternate tumblr in fear of the 2018 purge.If you like this please check out my other works here on AO3 (Every Body a Cage) or my tumblr! peachnewt.tumblr.com  ^_^





	A Contribution to the Vessel Theory - Hard to Swallow

My Contribution to the Vessel Theory - I  
Hard to Swallow

It was hard to find privacy in purgatory, when even trees grew eyes and rocks had ears, but Castiel and Dean had done their best. 

“How will I know if it works?” asked Dean. 

Cas shook his head. “Frankly I don’t know if it will. Your body was meant as a vessel for an archangel, not as a host for my grace.” 

“If we can even call it that. When Benny said I was his ticket out of here I didn’t know I was the damn soul train.” 

Cas looked askance, eyeing the edge of the clearing as if he expected Benny to eavesdrop on them even though he said he wouldn’t. “There is risk to you as well. You are not of Jimmy Novak’s bloodline. The wear on you body would be significant.” 

“How bad? Like the drooling mess Raphael made of his guy?” 

“No. Like Lucifer.” 

Dean remembered the meat-suit Lucifer had hijacked, bits of skin peeling away like plastic under a heat lamp. Burning from the inside out. 

Cas looked Dean in the eyes. “I understand if you cannot go through with this.” 

“No,” snapped Dean. “We’re getting out. And by we I mean all of us.” 

***

It was easier said than done. Dean gripped harder, his broken fingernails dragging on the ragged trench coat cuff. He kept his eyes on Cas’s face, ignoring the twisting, screeching mass of Leviathan that kept crawling up the slope to them. They were hungry, starved for revenge, and they wanted Cas, going after him like a piranha going after a tiny worm. And they kept getting faster. 

“Cas!” Dean needed the battered angel to grip harder, to pull himself up. He held tight enough to make his whole back ache. He glanced back at the Leviathan then back to Cas. Cas’ face was one of resigned defeat. 

Cas let go and Dean stumbled back towards the gate. 

As the gate pulled him through, Dean felt a punch to the chest, as if the gravity between worlds stole his air. A burrowing burn seared between his lungs, and then landed him on his ass on the other side. The air smelled of damp cold, and even in the obvious night he could see colors, bright and living in the glow of the gate. 

For a brief moment before the gate shut, he thought he could see a figure reaching out towards him through the blue swirling glow. It was only his reflection. 

“Cas?” Perhaps he had gotten out before him. Dean looked around, eyes searching out the pale glimpse of a dirty trench coat. Nothing. And his body, though aching from the jump, didn’t feel any different aside from the twisted mass of Benny stuck in his left arm. 

Dean’s grip on the bone blade tightened, his face falling into numb realization. All he went through to find Cas, to convince him that he deserved saving, and he hadn’t been able to hold on. 

A crawling feeling under his arm brought him to his feet. He was back. He got Benny out like he promised. He had a goal, get to Benny’s body. He just had to find out where he was. 

Dean heard the sleepy, worried voices of a camping couple before he saw the tent. Good place to start. 

***

Dean had lost count of the number of crossroads he had passed on foot. He should feel tired, but he wasn’t. 

Getting out of Purgatory had been like waking from a long bloody dream, his mind was weary, but his body kept going. Every offered ride had been an opportunity for him to sleep, but he kept his eyes open, seeing green fields pass by and hearing the roar of an engine. Sometimes he even thought about his Baby or Sam. But never let himself think about Cas. He ignored the thought like he ignored how he wasn’t tired and wasn’t hungry.

Louisiana. Finally. Benny had been like a swarm of bugs crawling under his skin, burning and stinging through his arm. Cutting him out had been a relief. A bit of blood, bit of glowing and words, done. His friend, brother in bloodshed, was out and in the world, and they had said their farewells as equals. 

Now what? Dean walked along a dirt road in Louisiana, sun warming his skin and jacket tied around his waist. He couldn’t get enough of feeling the sun. The cut on his arm had clotted by morning, and he still walked. He wasn’t tired. Wasn’t hungry. Wasn’t being chased. 

The cabin. He would go to the cabin, call Sam and see what he’d been missing for the last year. Sam was his next priority. 

Not Cas. 

Dean wasn’t tired, but he wandered to the shade of a tree by the side of the road, leaning against the trunk, rough bark scratching around the bandage. Cas was gone, locked in Purgatory. Nothing he could do. Even though he tried. Damn how he tried. Not fast enough. Not hard enough. Just left him to be torn apart. Alone. 

Now Dean was alone too. 

He couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

“Cas,” murmured Dean. “I don’t know if you can hear me. You heard me in purgatory. Maybe you can hear me now. If you’re alive.” 

His breathe burned, like breathing through hot straw. 

“You told me I was worth saving. That I deserved to be saved. Well you did too. You deserved to be saved.” 

Dean half laughed, half groaned, remembering the first time Castiel had said that to him in the barn, sparks shooting and wind rumbling. He smacked his palm into the bark, grounding himself in the sting. 

“And I get it. I get it, okay? I see the big picture. The whole self-sacrifice thing. I know it’s fuckin’ pathetic. Dad goes to hell to save me. I go to hell to save Sam. Sam goes to the cage to save the world. And then you… Dammit we keep giving and giving and it doesn’t get any better, just more twisted. And the only way it keeps me from going crazy is having people just as crazy around me. You included, even when you followed bees.” 

Dean didn’t think he was capable of crying when he was this angry, but something choked in his chest, like a rock turning below his breastbone. “I take you hunted, cursed, crazy, broken. I’d take you no questions asked if you would have just taken my hand. How was I not good enough to save you? What was it that made you let go of my hand at the last second? Your guilt? You thought you deserved to be trapped there with all those monsters. Well, guess what, you didn’t. You’re not a monster, you’re Cas. The guy that dragged me outta hell and into the frying pan and it’s not fair.” 

He looked up through the flicker of sun through the leaves, knees week from lack of breath, but fists tight. “You hear me? It’s not fair!” 

The stone in his chest grew hot and brought him to his knees by the tree. Dean rubbed at his chest and hissed through his teeth, keeping back the tremble in his jaw. “I’d punch you right now if I could.” 

“Doing so would only bring damage to yourself.” It was a whisper, but low and one Dean understood the moment he heard it. 

Dean’s head shot up. One hand went to his knife, the other to help him get back to his feet. “Cas?” 

“Dean.” 

Dean turned the around, looking behind the tree. The voice was quiet, tired almost, but it felt so close. “Cas where are you?” 

His chest clenched up again, growing hot, but he ignored it, eying the trees and expecting the flutter of a trench coat any minute. 

“Here,” said Cas. 

“Here where?” Dean snapped. Then his breath shot from his lungs and pulse hitch. It had been like a kick to the chest, but from the inside and warm, hot almost. 

“Here.” 

Dean lifted the collar of his t-shirt, sweat staining the seams. Right there below his tattoo was a patch of weakly glowing blue. “Cas, you’re…” 

“Inside you.” 

Dean let go of the collar and stared at the tree in front of him. “Holy shit.”


End file.
